


Firequeen

by ApricityAlpenglow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 03:16:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20039029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApricityAlpenglow/pseuds/ApricityAlpenglow
Summary: Daenerys deserved a better death. Based on how I thought the final season might go.





	Firequeen

**Author's Note:**

> Season 8 was a dumpster fire and everyone deserved better. I didn't even like Daenerys anymore and still thought it was a disaster.

Jon picked up the flaming sword from the dragon fire. It burnt his hands and the pain was incredible but more than that he could feel the burn through his whole body. Like lava was going through his veins. Like his soul was now alit with wildfire. It was so much more than burnt hands.

_Don’t let go. No matter what you mustn’t let go of the sword_. Bran had said.

It felt like an eternity before he realized Daenerys had come to stand in front of him. The sword pointing directly at her chest.

The image was so startling, so awful, for a moment he almost dropped the sword.

“What are you doing?” he managed to grit out.

Her expression was focused and determined. Her eyes glinted with the strength and unyielding will that drove her.

“The sword needs to be tempered.” she said

He couldn’t force anymore words but his confused expression must have said enough.

“It needs to be tempered but it can’t cool. It holds dragon fire so it needs the blood of a dragon. Bran told me. That is why I needed to bring my dragons. The blood of a dragon. The life of a dragon. He told me to order Rhaegal before you. To take my child’s lifeblood.” She turned so fierce in that moment, “To order my child to die. To sit back and watch.” Fury was rising in her voice but the determination seeped back into it.

“But it is one life to millions. We need the sword. You need it. Our people need it. And I need them all to live. I can’t, I won’t, let them die. But I won’t let my children die either. I am their _mother_. I won’t be Cersei Lannister, I won’t be the mother that outlives her children. That watches them die. That let's them die for my actions.”

“You will take this sword and you will defeat the Night King. You will make sure everyone lives. That my people have safe homes and happy lives. That the white walkers will never plague another living soul ever again. Do you understand me?” she demanded, ordered, begged. He was no longer sure. There was so much emotion going on. In her, in him.

She moved just a bit closer. The sword was now just touching her dress. She looked him in the eye “The lifeblood of a dragon.” she repeated. And he finally understood.

“No. No, no, no. Not this.” His mind was frantic hoping for alternatives, other options, but he was not in a state to think. With the sword in his hand he could only feel.

“You can do this. You can do all of this. You have a duty to the people. You have a duty to _me_. You must protect them and this is how.”

He looked at the burning hole the sword was putting in her dress and a sound close to a sob came out of him.

“I can’t. I can’t do this.” he pleaded. “You are my heart. You are my _queen_.”

Her determined face softened with affection, “And you are my king.” Then she smiled at him so warmly his heart felt light. “I love you, Jon Snow.”

And she stepped forward.

The sword stabbed right through her.

He could feel the pressure on the burning sword in his hands, where her body was collapsing while impaled on it. The burning was stopping but the pain was still there and growing by the second.

“Dany.” he whispered her name. In disbelief. As a plea. As a denial. In desperation. He whispered it over and over again. His throat was hurting and he didn’t realize until people were around him, talking, crying, pulling her away, pulling him away, that he was not whispering.

The sword was still in his hand. It was no longer burning him but it felt warm, warm in a way that was hotter than the burning. It had an inner fire now. A fierce and fiery soul burned within. Greater and fiercer than any dragon. This burned with the power of a queen.

_Lightbringer_, they had called it when discussing and planning for its creation. But that name belonged to a different sword with a different soul. This one needed its own name.

“Firequeen.”


End file.
